The Caretakers
by Mistress V
Summary: This is a Quintuple Cross, actually: Primary Hogan's Heroes parody companion to the fanfic trial series and ST:DS9,but some L&O,CSI:NY and CSI:Miami crop up, some TOS and TNG too. IT'S A PARODY: Warning, shameless and blatant self-insert, too. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

The Caretakers

By Mistress V

Rating: T

As I said in the header, this is a companion piece to the Fanfic Trial currently going on within the HH community. The muse wouldn't let it go, so I wrote. It is NOT anything like what I usually do, community wise. There are elements of "ST:DS9" ("Trials and Tribble-ations") and a touch of "Law and Order" (as in Jack McCoy's relationship with the female lead here). If you don't know what I am talking about, check out the trial piece in the HH section, it will help! 

This actually grew out of a couple of reviews and chapters I penned for the HH trial. So, if you are new to this, you might not make sense of what happens---please, no flames. It is 100% send-up/parody and meant to be fun. The V persona is based on me (My authoress name is Mistress V) and she is very much a Vash-type character (from ST:TNG). Not an intentional Mary Sue, but I thought who better to deal with this surprise visitor than a fan?

Anyway, enjoy. Legalese: Copyright Mistress V, 2009. "Star Trek," "Hogan's Heroes," and "Law and Order" belong to their respective owners and no infringement is intended. I borrow from their toy box, but what I create is mine. Some notes follow at the end, for clarification.

______________

Court was finally done for the day. V was exceptionally glad as she bade Miss Marple good-bye until Sunday brunch, she was exhausted and there was a ton of work beckoning to her before then. What HAD possessed her to spend the prior night with Jack? It was all well and good to laugh it off as scratching an itch, but the deeper connection they once had was still strong. And that bothered her. Not to mention her budding relationship with Mike that was unraveling like a cat-tortured piece of knitting, even before it began.

She scanned her cell phone messages, frowning as one number continually cropped up. Well, she'd been in the gallery---no phone calls allowed. V hit the replay button and listened to the messages. Her mouth fell open and she ran down the courthouse steps, oblivious to the pouring rain.

TAXI!"

_____________

The bottom dropped out of V's stomach when the elevator doors opened. Workmen were scurrying in and out of her apartment. A pile of rain soaked detritus sat on her hardwood floor. Her glass coffee table was cracked in two, but apart from that, the rest of the room looked all right except for mud and water spots. Everything was swathed in heavy plastic.

"V!" a familiar voice called.

"Marcus, what happened?" She was very glad to see the building super there.

"That old unit finally gave up, right over the wettest part of the roof. A puddle, naturally." The super frowned, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, V, that was just above here. All that debris came crashing down around 2 this afternoon." His eyes traveled up to where a piece of ancient machinery had been hurriedly shored up. A crew was trying to move it despite the rain, but the process looked to be slow and precarious.

"My-my cats?" V fought the nausea threatening to surface. Rumpole and Bailey, a pair of alley cat rescues, were her pride, joy and comfort,

"No worries, dearie." An older woman stepped forward and laid a hand on V's arm. "I got them soon as we found out what happened. They're asleep with Roxie, snug as bugs in the rug."

"Thanks, Mrs. Shanahan." One problem down. Roxie was her neighbor's brindle boxer. "But what about my apartment?"

"The real damage is up there." The super pointed to the hole in the ceiling. "Your floor got some from falling debris, but we're lucky the whole thing didn't come down on your living room. The crew needs to fix the roof and dry out the damage. Then repaint and re-carpet, buff the floors. We got most of it with tarp, but you never know." Marcus shrugged. "You can't stay here the next night or two, there'll be folks in around the clock. Have you got somewhere to go?"

"You can stay with us," Mrs. Shanahan offered.

The week's inanity threatened to close in. V smiled her best smile and prayed. She wanted refuge, but not here.

"I need to be at the office, so I'd better bunk in with a friend nearer there," she said graciously. "If you'd watch the cats?"

"Of course. Roxie and I have been cat-sitters often enough. But where will you be?"

V hit a recently re-programmed number on her cell, praying it would be answered. It was.

"You know that offer? Well, if you're free this weekend, I might take you up on it."

___________

Jack McCoy hurried to answer the buzzer. He had no idea what the ruckus was about, but it sure sounded like a major emergency from the sound of the call. He swung the door open and stared at the bedraggled swamp rat on his doorstep.

"V?" he finally asked.

The figure nodded, dripping water all over the hallway.

"Don't stand there, come inside. What happened to you?"

"I couldn't get a cab," she replied flatly as she dropped her duffel bag and jacket carefully on the doormat. "Look, right now all I want is a hot bath. Then I'll explain everything, OK?"

McCoy knew better than to press the matter. "This way, ma'am," he said with a flourish.

____________

V settled back into the steaming water and closed her eyes. Why, she asked herself, and tonight of all nights? Not only was she exhausted *and* muscle bound from the bedroom fun the prior evening, now she was taking refuge at the hands of the perpetrator. Calling Jack had been second nature, but not for scratching an itch this time. She just wanted a haven, a haven with someone she knew. No time for hanky or panky this weekend. There were stacks of nominations to be re-read, emails to wade through, kayaking on the Hudson the next afternoon, a brunch on Sunday and a nagging feeling that she might be subpoenaed at any moment. Plus it really *was* pouring outside.

"I've got a ticket on the heartburn express," she muttered to herself.

There was a tap at the door, followed by a male face appearing through the steam.

"I made you a spritzer," Jack McCoy said, handing over a wine glass. He sat down at the tub's edge and took a sip of his own drink. "There's pizza heating up and I threw a salad together. Sound all right?"

"More than all right." V smacked her lips. "Pinot grigio, just the way I like it. Thanks."

"My pleasure. Oh and your super called. They promise you can move back in Monday afternoon. And the cats are asleep at your neighbor's, no problems there." McCoy's tone dropped. "I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"What? There's a hole in my ceiling big enough to drive a Panzer through, that's all. It just was the last straw."

"Whatever you say." McCoy still knew the woman better than she, or he, wanted to admit.

"Stop looking." V didn't open her eyes. No luxury of bubbles here, she thought, just hot water and plenty of it, but the light showed up all the ravages of middle age. "The view's not worth it."

"You're forgetting I saw the original package," he laughed, splashing some water for effect. "I'll go check on dinner."

____________

"Nice." Jack indicated V's sweats, which bore the legend "Starfleet Academy."

"I didn't have time to think while I grabbed clothes," she replied flippantly. "Budge up, you're hogging the sofa as usual. I need to start working."

"Work can wait until we eat. What's so all-fired important that you're going to ignore the company and the cuisine? One of your students decide to throw the patio furniture off the balcony again?" McCoy responded teasingly.

"Don't remind me. We're settling out of court on that one." V sighed, allowing herself the luxury of being fed a slice of pizza. Work COULD wait. "But I have some nominations to get through tonight, for the PBA's."

"The what?"

"Sorry. It's a fan fiction thing, the Papa Bear Awards. We're voting on the best submissions for 2007 in all the categories."

McCoy said nothing but shot his companion a peculiar glance. "That's got to be a new one in the excuse department," he finally said.

"Been going on for years. And Jack, you KNOW by now what I do in my spare time." V sent a gentle kick towards a well-muscled thigh.

"I thought you played action woman. Aren't you kayaking tomorrow?" Jack knew banter was part of foreplay, just as his companion so often wrote it.

"Not in this deluge, no. I'll lock myself up in the office all day and finish cleaning out my inbox, just in time for the week to begin all over again."

"Poor you. Can't you be distracted for awhile?" The D.A. had ideas.

"I'm tired, for Pete's sake. Aren't you?" V was incredulous. "We stayed up all night, remember? I'm no spring chicken these days. No. Now please, I need to get some votes cast."

"Tomorrow ?" McCoy was ever the optimist, though he, too, welcomed the prospect of an early night. He 'd be the last to admit it but the prior evening's frolics had gotten to his muscles as well.

"Under advisement. Now shoo."

"Aren't you forgetting something? This is *my* home, counselor." McCoy stole a kiss before succumbing to his own workload.

__________

"Are you certain the problem has been resolved?" Benjamin Sisko asked his first officer.

"As well as can be expected," Kira replied. "It's not the most perfect of connections but we should get home. But we may get bumped around." She frowned. "I could kill that man," she admitted.

"Mr. Darvin will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of Federation and Klingon law," the captain said reassuringly. "And Mr. Worf has promised me he will watch the prisoner personally during our journey back to DS9."

"We're good to go." Kira Nerys got up from where the orb was now in place once more and took her place on the bridge.

"Engage," Sisko ordered, and the *Defiant* headed out to open space.

_________________

"All hands, brace for turbulence!" Jadzia Dax shouted over the red alert klaxon.

"What is it?" Skisko shouted back, grabbing the console tightly.

"Some sort of rift opening up," the science officer yelled. "It was calm one minute, then that." She indicated a multicolored chasm dead ahead of the ship. "A force field has us. There's no use trying to fight, we'd break up like an egg. I bet the orb has something to do with this."

Further conversation was thwarted as the *Defiant* was pulled into the spatial anomaly.

_______________

On the bridge, all was quiet once more, save for the odd console that was still sparking. It had been, to quote the old saying, one heck of a ride.

"Damage report?" Sisko asked tiredly, pleased the crew had come through intact.

"No communication. Warp drive is partially disabled, the core's banged up. Warp 3 is about all we can manage, in a pinch. Shields are about 25%, phasers were damaged a bit. But we've got to effect repairs and soon or else we'll start drifting," Dax stated.

"Very well, but where *are* we?" This from Odo, looking paler than normal. "I won't even ask *when*"

"I know those stars," Kira muttered. "Let me just check something." A moment later she whistled.

"Could you share the news with all of us?" Sisko asked, tapping his fingers.

"We're just outside the Terran system. "

Sisko was taken aback. "Are you certain? Can you ascertain what the timeframe might be?"

"Please, not the Mesozoic Period," Odo said under his breath.

"A fair amount of what you call space junk. Satellites, that sort of thing. Quite sophisticated for the time, but no sign of anything resembling Starfleet ships or facilities." Kira chewed her lip as she continued to scan. "I would say, as a guess, early 21st century."

"Great," Dax grunted. "We need a starbase and all we get is the space shuttle? We're stuck. Kira, can you get the orb working again?"

"We need full power to be able to do anything." The Bajoran was busily examining the object. "How the heck did we end up here, of all places? It doesn't make sense!"

"I think I may be to blame," Julian Bashir said. "I---I was kind of looking up that woman we met on the *Enterprise*, Lieutenant Watley? To see if she really was related to me. I had the search function on the main computer scanning late 20th and early 21st century Terran history for a reference. Maybe that's what caused us to end up here."

"That's all well and good," Sisko mused. "But apart from flagging down a passing scout ship, we're the proverbial sitting ducks. This was a dangerous time, remember. All sorts of visitors were observing Terra from a safe distance. Some of them were unsavory. Now back to our original problem. We need assistance, parts even, if we are to complete repairs. Does anyone have a suggestion as to where we might obtain them?"

"Any Vulcans in the vicinity?" Ono offered hopefully. A scathing glance from Worf, who'd joined the crew on the bridge, silenced him.

Jadzia Dax bent over her computer terminal. "I have an idea," she said slowly. "It's a complete long shot but the best chance we have. Worf, can you get someone to the Terran surface?"

The Klingon swiftly made calculations. "It is possible, but there is only enough power to allow a one way transport."

"It's settled, then." Dax stood up. "Captain, request permission to beam to the Terran surface, once we get there."

"What are you getting at?" Sisko replied, concern for the welfare of his officer competing with the need for a solution to the problem at hand.

"A gamble, but I know enough about this time period to get me somewhere I can obtain help. It's---complicated. There are beings on Terra that can help us, I just need to contact them.

"But why you?" Worf joined the conversation. "Surely someone else can make the journey."

"I'm best suited and versed in the history of the period. The captain can't be expected to leave at a time like this. And we need a physician here. Everyone else on board would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, even if I AM going to New York City." Dax shrugged.

"New York City?" Realization spread over Sisko's face, along with a small smile. "Yes, if anyone can help us, they can. But there'll be he-- to pay with the Temporal Investigations crew, you realize."

"As if we aren't in enough trouble already?" Kira added with a laugh. "I say go for it, Jadzia. What do we have to lose?"

"It's settled then. Let me throw together some kind of suitable attire. With any luck, my spots won't re-appear for a few more days. By then, I'm hoping we're back home."

"So do we all," Sisko agreed.

Jadzia raced into her quarters and glanced around. In 21st century Manhattan, the phrase 'anything goes' was the norm. She pulled on casual gear and ordered up a heavy outer jacket in case the weather was inclement. Now what else? Gloves, sure, she had those. And a scarf. She needed something to wrap around her face against any elements. Ah, there it was.

"Sorry, Inky," she told the spotted tribble that had been sleeping there. "But I need this more than you do right now." After she stuffed the woolen wrap into a large jacket pocket, Jadzia carefully placed the furry creature on her pillow. "Stay warm, but don't eat anything!" she ordered her illegal visitor. "The last thing we need is babies."

Worf had the coordinates ready when Jadzia got to the transporter. "I shall set you down in that large open space you indicated. But you will not have any communication with the ship until we finish repairing the console," he cautioned the woman. "And as for returning, unless we obtain the necessary supplies, it is difficult to say what you may face." A trace of concern was apparent in his eyes. "Be careful, Jadzia. I only wish I could accompany you on so dangerous a mission."

"Thanks, Worf. I appreciate your sentiment more than you know. Tell you what, when we get back to DS9, how about a game of tongo? On me?" The trill symbiont smiled at the Klingon, then hopped up on to the pad. "Energize," she said.

___________

Jadzia materialized just near the borders of Central Park. It was late afternoon by the looks of things, stormy and nasty. Few people were about. She stepped from the shelter of the trees and was blasted full on by rainy wind.

"Good thing I brought this," she said to herself.

A moment later she'd drawn out her scarf and wrapped it protectively around herself. Then with a quick scan at her PADD, she began making her way towards apartment 12B.

Her interquadrant hitchhiker lay on the soggy ground.

FIN of Chapter 1. TBC!

__________________

Ok, couple of things. This is set post "Trials and Tribble-ations" in the DS9 universe.

Jadzia is, of course, headed to the old apartment office of Gary Seven and Roberta Lincoln, who featured in "Assignment:Earth." But whoever dreamed up that address, 811 E. 68th Street, must not have been thinking straight. My Mapquest says that would put it in the middle of Brooklyn, in Bergen Beach! So I am presuming the wars changed addresses, there's another 811, or maybe it's 81? At any rate, I set it east of Central Park and that's that.

As for the wars supposed to have raged by the time 2009 rolled around, well, TOS was written 40+ years ago, so…as the HH trial is set in present day 2009, this story is too.

Rumpole and Bailey are named for the popular English series, "Rumpole of the Bailey." V is academic dean at Hudson University Law School (a fictional institution in the L&O universe) and was Jack McCoy's first law clerk.


	2. Chapter 2

The Caretakers, Chapter 2

by Mistress V

Disclaimers as in Chapter 1.

____________

"Jack, this was a brilliant idea!" V danced through a puddle and then suddenly found herself pulled into an embrace. "Late lunch at Tavern on the Green was a stroke of genius. And now this walk back in the rain."

"Humans do not live by takeaway alone," the D.A. replied. His voice lowered suggestively. "I always knew how much you loved water…the rain, the ocean, a lake, a river, a glass of it. What better way to set the stage for the next act?"

"And what's that?"

"We stop at that little dessert place near my building, get something decadent and then take it home and…feed it to each other. If we get hungry for dinner, we raid the fridge." McCoy moved in for the kiss.

"Rrrooooo?"

The couple broke apart.

"What the heck was that?" the D.A. asked, looking around. "Don't tell me I made you purr?"

V moved swiftly towards the sound and knelt on the sodden turf. "Over here," she said, cradling a small furry object in both hands. "It CAN'T be," she said to herself.

"A guinea pig?" McCoy joined her, peering at the minuscule, soaked mess.

"Jack. Don't you know what this is?" V's voice had taken on a hushed, almost reverent tone.

"Afraid not. Care to enlighten me, counselor, before we both catch pneumonia?"

"It's…a tribble."

"A WHAT?"

"I'll explain it to you when we get to your place." V pocketed the waif and ran towards the street, her arm up for a cab.

"I guess you will," McCoy said as he followed, still confused.

_____________

Jadzia, ushered in by the polite doorman, prepared to ring the bell of 12B. She was more than a little surprised when the door opened before she could do so.

"Hi there." A youngish male, in his 20's, grinned at her. "I was expecting you. But I'll be honest, you're my first Trill. Come on in!"

"You were expecting me?" Jadzia repeated.

"Uh-huh. You off that fancy starship hanging up there? "The host indicated a chair. "The one out of its timeframe?"

Jadzia sat gratefully and rubbed her waterlogged calves. "I guess I am. But how did you know we were in orbit?"

"With the recent shuttle launch, everyone's observing Terra. So our sensors are on high alert. In fact, my boss is out on a cloaked scout ship, watching the watchers. I'll go let her know you're clear, if that's OK?"

"Certainly." Jadzia glanced around the apartment. It looked precisely the same as it did in the vids she'd studied of the strange Andromedan watchers.

"You're good to go," the young man said as he returned. "Here, have a raktajino. My superiors said you liked it. So do I. In fact, they gave you clearance at the highest level, so let's get down to business. How can I help you?"

Jadzia sipped the strong coffee beverage, feeling it warm her to the tips of her toes. "Not so fast," she replied. "Why not tell me about you, since you seem to already know my background? I was expecting Isis, at least."

"Fair enough. I'm Jason. My boss, Ophelia, is on assignment right now. She's the Terran, by the way. Isis, well she's back on our world, training new operatives. She's in what you'd call our middle age. Don't let my youthful look fool you. I'm 500 of your Terran years old. As for Gary Seven, well, he's passed on."

"I see." Jadzia paused. "Do you…?"

"Sure do!" A moment later, a large English Mastiff dog was seated on the sofa next to her. And then in a heartbeat, Jason was back. Still grinning.

"There's someone you have to meet, Jason," Jadzia giggled. "But first, to business."

________________

"WHAT is this?" Jack asked again.

"Shhh." V adjusted the box that held the tiny furred creature, making sure the desk lamp warmed it adequately without burning. "It's a tribble. I told you!"

"I still don't know what a tribble is, precisely. Care to enlighten me?"

V turned, a surprised look on her face. "As in 'The Trouble with Tribbles' and a whole host of other Star Trek episodes? You're kidding, Jack, aren't you?"

McCoy shrugged. "I was busy in my first year placement out of law school back then, plus being a husband and a father. Those were pretty blurred times for me. No TV allowed, that was a luxury, apart from the odd ballgame."

"But surely you must know about Trek?" V didn't quite believe what she heard. "You read my stories, don't you?"

"They're easy enough to follow, my Mistress." Jack embraced the woman. "But as TV sci-fi goes, I was more of a 'Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea' man myself."

"You were?" V sneaked a glance at the tiny bundle, safely snoozing by the looks of things.

"Yeah. I grew up diving off the piers of the Chicago River. Nothing exciting there. But the idea of being beneath the ocean, well, that was appealing."

"So is space, only more so. But why won't you come diving with me? We could get you certified." V slid her hands around Jack's neck, warming to the idea of even warmer southern seas.

"You forget, even bathtubs make me seasick."

The couple's kiss was interrupted, for the second time that day, by a trilling sound.

"I guess it's hungry," V concluded after she'd checked the creature once more.

"So, feed it?" Jack replied, puzzled. Their daughter cried, his wife fed her. End of case.

"No, I can't. Then we'd have more tribbles. I guess I'd better explain what this is, but don't worry, someone will be along looking for it soon enough."

"And if not?"McCoy asked, ever the skeptic.

"I think I know where to take it. Now sit, Jack, and open your imagination to what I'm about to tell you."

__________

"Dax to Sisko, come in?"

Sisko was startled by the transmission, given the communications console was still being worked on. He smiled. Good old Jadzia, she'd made contact.

"Sisko here. Status?"

"I'm beaming directly to the bridge with a colleague." The message lapsed in and out of static.

"Affirmative. We await your arrival. Sisko out."

A few minutes later, Jadzia appeared in front of the observation window, accompanied by a large canine.

"I thought you said a Collie, Jadzia?" Sisko asked the woman, eying the Mastiff.

"No, a colleague." Jadzia nodded her head as transformation began. "Meet Jason, Captain Sisko. He's here to help. There's a long few hours ahead of us before anything works again, but he can help get us home."

"Welcome aboard, Jason."

________________________

"Jack?" V mumbled into a warm shoulder.

"Zzzz?"

"What's that noise?"

"The rain. G'bak t'sleep."

"No it isn't!" V sat up and willed herself into lucidity. She grabbed a sweatshirt and ran into the den, McCoy at her heels. They stared down at the tribble, which was obviously in some kind of distress from the noises it made.

"Poor thing." V picked up her adopted child, which started trilling almost immediately.

"I still say it's hungry. Give it some Cheerios!" Jack yawned, unable to comprehend the scene.

"Just one. Otherwise we might get a surprise in the morning." V moved to get one piece of cereal for the creature, which was devoured in due course.

"It IS morning." Jack tried to focus on the clock. It read 03:30.

"There, the poor thing's finally asleep again." V smiled a maternal little smile.

"That's what I'd LIKE to be," her companion grumbled, yawning again loudly. "Asleep."

"You sure about that?" V let a shoulder pop subtly out of her sweatshirt. Jack suddenly was aware that was all the woman was wearing.

"Like I said, I want to be back in bed," McCoy quickly amended, sensing opportunity, among other things, arise.

"Lead on, sir."

Fin of 2. TBC!

______________

No one knows where Gary Seven's minders are from, but it's been speculated (by many, including my own characters) that they hail from the nearby Andromeda Galaxy. But then, so did the Kelvans. So who knows?

Sam Waterston was born in 1940, which would have made him 26 or so in 1966. Just about right. Jack McCoy's character has a daughter. V was born (as was I) in 1958. An up and coming legal whizz would likely have needed his first real clerk around the mid 80's .


	3. Chapter 3

The Caretakers, Chapter 3

by Mistress V

Disclaimers as in Chapter 1.

_____________________

"Hold STILL, please!" Dr. Bashir instructed his patient.

Arne Darvin was having none of it, despite the knock to his noggin sustained during the recent turbulence.

"Bwahahahahah!" the former Klingon agent cackled. "We're STUCK in the 21st century! Can't stay up here forever, can we? No, we'll have to make our way to Terra. And with all the knowledge I have about that period, I'll make a fortune, a FORTUNE and buy my own private island. BWAHAHAHAHAH!"

Worf stuck his unmodified face close to the older man's. "There is an old Terran saying," he hissed venomously at his captive. "It goes, SHUT UP! I suggest you do so or you may suffer…unforeseen consequences. Is that clear?"

Bashir depressed a hypospray and the antagonist slid back onto his brig cot. "That'll keep him in lullabyland for a good twelve hours. By then, we should be on our way home!"

"That is a relief." Worf shook his head. "He is most definitely without honor, but also appears to be loose a few credits in the till as well. Shall we rejoin the others on the bridge to assist with the repairs?"

As the two passed the crew quarters, Worf was vaguely aware of a muffled, uncomfortably familiar shriek from Jadzia's cabin. It could NOT be THAT, he told himself sternly, though he made a note to ask the comely officer to investigate at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps he might even accompany her….

___________________

Jack awoke with an erotic agenda in mind. He was mightily disappointed to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. The rain was still pouring outside. He pulled on sweats and his beat up old shearling mocs and went in search of his bedmate.

A sound caught his attention. A…cough?

"V?" he asked as he padded into the den.

"Over here." She was hunched over the desk, a mask of concern where her face would normally be.

"What's the matter?" He kissed the back of her neck and looked down at the box. The tribble looked quite the worse for wear. "It's sick, isn't?" He'd seen enough croup in his time.

"Yeah, it sure is. The rain must have done a number on its immune system, that and being somewhere unfamiliar. But what worries me is it's SO small. Jack, I think this is an infant. Probably born an hour or so before we found it." V stroked the tiny furred thing, but it did not trill back. It sneezed. "It MUST be really sick, or else it'd have been in the kitchen by now, looking for food."

"What can you do? Give it chicken soup? " Jack eyed the invalid. "Hey, the thing's not contagious, is it? I don't need some exotic flu that might kill an old man like me." His attempt for levity came out sounding rather hollow.

"No, they're not contagious to us that I know of, but they hate Klingons. Thankfully there aren't any of those within a million parsecs or so. And I can't feed her or she'll probably give birth anyway. That's the problem. They're born pregnant and reproduce like mad when they start eating. She's sick AND hungry and I can't help her."

"Her?" Jack placed his hands gently on his companion's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "It's a she?"

"I'm guessing, they're supposedly duosexual. But she looks like a girl." V wiped her own sniffly nose. "I've named her 'Spots.' "

"Could we take her somewhere? To the zoo? The vets there might be able to help." Even Jack was surprised at his concern. But then, he never liked seeing someone he cared about hurting. V obviously was.

"They'd put her on an IV, so we're back to square one. We can't have Central Park Zoo overrun with these things. But Spots---she's so sick…" V banged her fist into her other hand, frustrated. "I HAVE to go to this brunch and get some work done. I think she'll be all right for a few hours, but when I get back I'll need to make a decision." If she's still alive was the unstated obvious.

"I'll be working at home. I can keep an eye on the patient." Jack got up, conscious of the fact he wanted coffee to clear up his brain. Things were getting just too, well, fantastic for words. "And no, I won't feed her, not even one Cheerio." When in Trekdom…he thought to himself, trying not to visualize the picture his mind conjured, of the geeky fans they'd made fun of in the office so many times.

"Thanks, Jack. I owe you."

For once, he resisted making a smart-assed comment in reply.

________________________

As V hurried to meet Miss Marple for the ladies' brunch, she weighed her options. She could speak to Riker and ask to be beamed aboard to see Dr. Crusher and the ship's exozoologist, never mind the problems with the Temporal folks. Or she could contact David Gerrold and ask his advice. He wrote the things, he could write a recovery, no? As a last resort, she could head up to E. 68th and see if anyone was at home in 12B, something she'd never dared to do before.

Her elderly companion through the long days of the trial waved and got up from the hotel lobby's armchair."How are you, my dear?" she asked pleasantly. "Bit of British weather we're having, isn't it?"

"All the better to use my brollie," V replied, sensing her mood lightening a bit. Jack HAD promised to call and so far, all was quiet. "Shall we?"

The two women hopped in a cab for the short ride to a West Village Italian restaurant. V led her companion inside and to a private banquet room where a large group of women were standing around socializing.

"And zees must be Mees Marple" a Gallic accent spoke. "I seemply ADORE your adventures!"

"Miss Marple, may I present Madame Tiger?" V replied.

"Delighted, my dear. Simply delighted."

"Come, Frau Linkmeyer wishes to meet you. Zees way."

V watched the Parisian woman lead Miss Marple towards a group of females that also included both Hilda and Helga. It was going to be an interesting time, she thought.

"Hey, V!" A waving arm from one of her fellow authors attracted V's attention and she made her way towards the bar.

After the improbable events of the day---and night---before, she DID need a drink.

FIN of 3, and almost done!

__________________

David Gerrold, of course, penned the original tribble script. The creatures were described as bisexual but in an hermaphrodite kind of way. I thought duosexual sounded better.

The brunch is ladies only and includes all HH female characters from the show and all the lady authoresses. Bon appétit! Or is it Abondanza? Anyway, it sure sounded like fun!

A brollie is Britspeak for an umbrella.


	4. Chapter 4

The Caretakers, Chapter 4

by Mistress V

Disclaimers as in Chapter 1.

____________________

Odo morphed back into his humanoid persona and rejoined Jason under the communications panel.

"Thanks, man. I couldn't have reached that spot AND done the repair, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed I do," his fellow allasomorph replied. "Glad I could be of assistance. How's the job going?"

"About another half hour here, then everything will have to recharge for at least another two." Jason nodded at Kira. "Give me just a couple more minutes and you can start up the orb."

"How long will it be before we get back to DS9?" Sisko inquired, fascinated at the sudden but welcome turn of events.

"Shouldn't be more than a day. We'll get you right out into your sector, that part won't take long. Then you just have to set your course and bingo." Jason paused. "But you do realize your problems aren't over yet?"

"You mean the TI agents, don't you?" Odo responded, ever conscious of security issues.

"Yeah, man. They're on the warpath right now. Pair of lovely goons, Mully and Sculder, has been chewing my ear off for information on a daily basis." Jason made a face that astonishingly resembled a canine frown.

"What for? Is someone tinkering with things again?" This from Jadzia, anxious about her own transgression to Manhattan.

Jason popped the control panel into place and sat back on the deck. "Well, first of all, Riker's on secondment here temporarily. Some kind of trial in New York City."

"COMMANDER Riker?" Worf interrupted.

"The same. So he's been under observation, and apparently the whole thing's turned into a circus. Plus, his shipmates have this annoying habit of dropping in to watch him in action. They *think* they're being discreet but everyone knows it's them. And then there was this wild goose chase of a story that Kirk and Spock had been seen in the vicinity, too."

"That can't be! We just SAW them!" Bashir said. "It's not possible…is it?"

"It is. Time's fluid and linear. You can be in two places at once, in theory, but in different parts of the timeline. That's what has the tweedle twins so upset. You can bet they'll be paying you a visit, and pronto, once you get home. In fact, I'm surprised they're not here already. Guess all these shuttle observers have them on their toes. That's lucky for you all." Jason finished by dusting off his hands. "You're set, folks. Anything else?"

"I have an interesting patient," Bashir began.

"Prisoner," Worf corrected.

"Yeah, well, both, Can you have a look at him?"

"Sure. That's one of the reasons I was chosen for this rotation, I have a great deal of interspecies medical knowledge. Let's go."

"You coming, Jadzia?" Kira asked.

"In a minute. I need to check on my spots," the Trill replied, noticing she'd been itching for some time now. "I'll just pop along to my cabin first."

_____________________

"More ravioli, V?" Miss Marple asked.

"Sure, why not? You only live…well…you only live!" V sneaked a glance at her cell and exhaled. Jack had texted the invalid was holding its own for now.

_______________________

Jack rechecked the summation outline, grateful that his unexpected houseguest would be there for a final edit. The trial was a real bi***, so was the defendant, and he didn't want the staff to blow it on a nuance.

A soft "roooooooo?" interrupted his thought train. He picked up his bowl of Rice Krispies and shuffled over to the desk.

"So you're still with us. Good," he told the odd looking creature. "Your mom will be mighty pleased about that."

"RRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Louder this time.

He paused between mouthfuls. "Oh, you want some of these? I'm sorry, but until she gets back, it's starvation rations for you. I'm under strict orders not to feed you one morsel." He shook his head. "I don't want an apartment full of your offspring, ma'am, er, miss, er, whatever."

"Rrrrroooo?"

Guilt eventually ate away at the D.A.'s conscience. "All right, ONE spoonful. And don't go into labor on me, OK?"

____________________________

"INKY!" Jadzia gasped. She hurried over to her bed and examined the spotty tribble. "Oh my goodness. You naughty girl!"

Inky was surrounded by a half dozen babies of various hues. They were trilling contentedly, but their mother was anxiously making circles. As if searching for something.

The penny dropped. "Oh NO! You didn't start having them on my scarf did you?" The possibilities were to horrible even to fathom. "I'll be right back," Jadzia told her new godchildren. "Don't MOVE!"

______________________

V rubbed her eyes, careful not to cause any more contact irritation. The bifocal lenses were a great improvement, especially underwater on a dive, but a few hours of intense reading still caused some pain. She added to her shortlist of potential votes, pleased she'd been able to get so much done in a short time.

Her stomach rumbled. Despite having a wonderful time at the brunch, she'd been unable to eat much, due partly to conversations and visiting, and partly to worry about Spots. She punched in Jack's number and told him she was on her way home, and in need of dinner.

________________________

Jason and Kira were making their way back to the bridge when Jadzia caught up to them. "Thank heavens. Come with me, don't say anything." She gave KJason's arm a tug.

A few minutes later, the three of them were staring down at the new arrivals.

Jason closed his eyes. "This is gonna get you in so much caca with the Temp guys, ladies. I wouldn't want to be anywhere near DS9 when this gets out."

"It may be worse. I think one of Inky's babies might have made the journey to New York with me." Jadzia looked stricken. "All alone in a strange place, some dog will probably eat it!"

"Hey!" Jason chided. He programmed the fancy PADD he was carrying. "Let me check. Easy enough to scan for the life signs. "AH." He pointed to a map of Manhattan. "There it is."

"Only one?" Kira breathed, relieved.

"Hmmm, looks like one but it's due to have a litter in the next few hours. Something's not right, though. I think it's sick."

"Sick?" Jadzia's voice caught. "Where is it? Can you do something?"

"I can give it a compound to help the symptoms, but no, I can't stop the inevitable. You're going to be a godmother again." Jason zeroed in on the address. "It's not that far from our base of operations. Tell you what, I can beam directly to 12B and then make my way over once I get the necessary meds."

"I'm coming with you. I got us into this mess; I want to be there to rescue the poor thing." Jadzia turned to her companion. "Where's Sisko?"

"Taking a nap," the Bajoran replied. "He said not to bother him for the next four hours."

"Good. Plenty of time. Jason, take me with you."

"Me too," Kira added. "Just in case."

__________________

"JACK!" V's voice had an accusatory edge to it.

"What?" he replied, trying to look innocent.

"LOOK at her! She's TWICE the size she was when I left and still sick!" V narrowed her green eyes to emerald slits. "Please tell me you didn't feed her?"

Sure enough, though she was still wheezy, Spots now appeared to be plumply pregnant.

"Er…." Jack dragged a toe across the hardwood floor.

"Of all the idiotic things to do, Jack, how COULD you?"

"She was hungry. And it was just a spoonful of Rice Krispies, hon."

"That's enough for a minor population explosion. All right, that's it. I need to make a call." V scrolled through her laptop, searching.

"Who are you calling?"

The doorbell sounded, rescuing McCoy momentarily. "Must be dinner, but they sure got here fast. I ordered Indian, that all right?"

V said nothing, just waved him towards the hall. What if Riker was staying on board? Well, there was always plan B. Her ear tuned into an oddly familiar sounding voice…?

"Hi, you're early!" Jack's smile froze on his face as he beheld the unusual trio on the doorstep. The lone male looked like one of V's law students, but much more…whatever. Then there was a female with serious wrinkles on the bridge of her nose, as though she permanently smelled Limburger cheese. The third member was the most improbable of all. She had a crazy pattern of spots on her neck and face, but the measles never looked like that.

"Can I help you?" he finally managed to ask.

"Oh my GOD!" V practically shouted in his ear. "Please, please. This way, she's in the den. Thank heavens!"

"Friends of yours?" Jack asked, but the oddball quartet was already in the next room. "I guess so," he finished to himself.

_________________

"So they'll be able to save, er, Spots?"

"Uh-huh. Jason, he's from another species and apparently very experienced in various galactic complaints." V sighed and leaned back into Jack's embrace. "Spots is back on the Defiant, safe and sound."

"I don't suppose you want to fill me in on your unusual acquaintances, do you? And what the hell's the Defiant?" The weekend was beginning to resemble a Fellini film.

"You'd never believe me, at least not on an empty stomach. Now where's that delivery?"

"Speak of the devil." Jack nodded at the sound of the chime. "I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," V agreed.

"About time you got here." For the second time that day, Jack's smile froze on his lips. A pair of stern looking males greeted him, not the delivery boy from Tandoori Palace. One of them pointed in his general direction.

"Mr. McCoy? I'm agent Mully and this is my colleague, agent Sculder. May we have a word with you?"

Jack exhaled down to his toes. Then he looked over his shoulder, a bemused smile playing around his mouth.

"V? More friends of yours!"

________________

Fin of 4.

There will be a brief postscript. And yes, Spots is safe and sound, told ya!


	5. Chapter 5

The Caretakers, conclusion

by Mistress V

Disclaimers as in Chapter 1.

An FYI: Sculder and Mully are, in fact, two agents from the Bureau of Temporal Investigations, part of Starfleet. The names intentionally were created to pay homage to the X-Files duo. They appeared in "Trials and Tribble-ations".

_________________

Monday morning couldn't come quickly enough for V.

She left Jack's apartment even before he was awake and made a quick stop at her own building. There she checked the status of her own living space and was pleased to learn she'd be able to move in as scheduled, at the end of the day. After she left her bag in the hall closet, she hurriedly slipped next door for feline purrs, promising lots of string time to Rumpole and Bailey that evening.

One more errand was on the agenda before she rejoined Miss Marple in the gallery. It was 15 minutes to court session when V finally got to the courthouse. She immediately sought out one of the courtroom guards for the trial.

"Can you deliver this to Colonel Hogan?" she asked, handing the man a string-tied package.

"I shouldn't, ma'am," he responded. "But seeing as I live around the corner from the place, I can vouch there's probably nothing deadly inside, except calories."

"Thanks." V dimpled her best smile, despite being exhausted.

As she headed to the stairwell, V bent to pick up a file that had been dropped by a tall male standing outside another courtroom."Here you go, don't want to lose any evidence, do you?" V passed the folder back, then stopped as she saw the man's companions. "Hi, Mac!" she finished.

Detective Taylor looked up from his Blackberry and smiled. "Hey, V, great to see you. What brings you here? You testifying in *International Shoe*?"

"Nope. Doing some research for a law journal article, and giving some support to friends. I have to run, but please, come visit again soon, OK?"

"Sure thing," Mac said to her retreating form.

"Who was that, boss? Ya know hah?" Messer asked, always curious about the women his somewhat mysterious superior knew.

"The dean of Hudson University law school. I gave a lecture there for a forensic evidence seminar a few months ago, was a big hit." Mac went back to his screen.

"I was thinking of going to law school," Flack said. "Always thought I had it in me to be a lawyer."

"You'd need t' finish college," Messer reminded his pal. "What you gonna be, anuddah Mike Koo-zack? Man, that guy could pull the dames."

"Naah." Flack shook his head, then indicated a portrait of the D.A. which hung front and center in the lobby. "I'd like take his like down a peg or two. He ain't no friend of cops."

"Being an attorney is a noble calling, detective," Taylor observed thoughtfully. "But there'll only be one 'Hang 'em High McCoy. You'd do well to be better, in your own way, than he was. The choice is yours."

____________________________

V took her place with Miss Marple and surveyed the gallery. The two goons form the prior night, Sculder and Mully, were there all right, though thankfully in halfway passable mufti. Otherwise, things looked quiet as usual, and that was good. She pulled out her laptop and opened to a word document she was working on.

"The Fanfiction Enigma: Yours, Mine, Everyone's---or No One's?"

_________________________

"Colonel Hogan? This arrived for you just now."

Hogan looked at the pretty pink cardboard box, artfully tied with plain white string. "Who sent it?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know. My colleague accepted it, so I can't even tell you if the sender is in the courtroom. There's a note, though, why not read it and find out?"

"Yeah, a good idea." Hogan picked up a heavy vellum envelope, addressed to himself, and slit it open carefully. He began to read.

"My dear Colonel Hogan,

"You don't know me, and I am not one of the witnessed called to testify, for my own reasons, but I know you. I am one of those dreaded fanfiction authors that are being discussed in the proceedings. But I wanted you to know that I, and my fellow writers, have a very human side and are not the monsters we would be described as.

"I visit your universe quite often, as I enjoy the writings of my fellow authors, though I seldom leave any offerings of my own. I prefer to lurk, ominous as that might sound. When I do write, though, I try to give you interesting adventures to go on, or at least ones that leave you in one piece, more or less. I don't, as a rule, feel the need to tie up, torture and cause my characters to suffer just so I might see the rainbow after the storm. I know the storm was there, I don't need to re-create it. I did rupture your spleen once, and for that I am sorry, but it was necessary for you to be injured in that particular scenario.

"This is not to say I am better, or worse, than any other author. I'm just my own person, as non conformist as that might be. Like the episode, 'Look at the Pretty Snowflakes', we are all snowflakes---in that we are unique---but at the end of the day, we're all just snow, too. All of us write for whatever reason we choose to---like the commonality of snow, our writing makes us part of a greater picture. It's those who read that ultimately judge our work, and some are harsher than others, for whatever reason. Some choose to criticize rather than ignore what they dislike. Others open their minds and simply enjoy. Me, I like to give humor. it's a gift so many people feel the need to deny themselves these days. Their loss.

"So please try to see all of us for what we are, human beings with human backgrounds. I myself will try to bring you an interesting adventure, if not interesting visitors, soon. Until then, be well. Please accept this with my compliments and do be certain to share with everyone, your men and the Germans alike.

"Yours sincerely,

"A writer."

Hogan opened the box and whistled under his breath. Inside were a dozen and a half beautiful cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery in Greenwich village. He motioned to the group and within minutes, everyone was contentedly munching on the treats.

He looked up into the gallery, trying to ascertain if the anonymous donor might be there. But there was no way he could possibly tell who the person was.

"ALL RISE!"

Another day of testimony had begun.

____________________

An extended lunch recess was called so more gavels could be procured. V used the time to make a lightning run to her office. Despite everything, she still had a job to do. She looked forward to a quiet evening at home, alone with only feline company. There was too much to think about at the moment.

"Hi, Reeney," she said to her assistant. "Any major fires, or only three alarmers today?"

"Just the usual crud. Oh, but you got a call from Dade. The search committee."

"Dade? University? in FLORIDA?"

"Well, unless it's moved since yesterday, they're still in the sunshine state. They wondered if you could be there Thursday for an all day interview session. I could fly you in Wednesday night and home Friday, unless you want to stay the weekend for some vacation time?"

"That's fine. I could use the day off. Here. " V furiously scribbled down some notes. "Book me as close to this itinerary as you can, all right?" Florida. The name even SOUNDED sunny. And maybe a chance to get out of Manhattan, once and for all. As Jim Croce once sang it, New York just wasn't her home. Neither was Florida, but it was a lot more similar to California, plus it had better diving.

Reeney's eyes widened. "You sure about the after interview digs? Little Palm Island, an Island Grand Suite? Two nights there will cost you two arms and a kidney at the least."

"I'm sure. You know what Heather Locklear tells us all, I'm worth it. Tell the concierge I'll call tomorrow with details. "

"Whatever you say, boss."

______________________

The rest of the week passed without incident. Mike Cutter returned from his own weekend away and over lunch one day, he and V decided their tentative relationship had no basis other than friendship. That relieved both parties, though not half as much as Mike's superior.

Jack was busy with his own trial and a batch of over eager reporters who were swarming like killer bees. It was Wednesday before he was able to unearth his phone from under a mountain of legal paperwork. He dialed a now familiar number. His eyebrow raised in surprise at what he heard.

The interview went well, and a decision was promised within two weeks.

________________________

V finger combed her damp tresses, frowning. The Atlantic's brine meant she'd have to do a deep conditioning treatment at some point or else she'd be called the Queen of the Frizz. She shrugged. Too bad. The diving had been spectacular out at Looe Key, bad hair was a small price to pay. It was her own time, the sea was warm, the breezes soft and a sunset was about to paint the horizon a pallet of brilliant orange and pink.

Tough. No, real tough.

As she slipped into a colorful cotton shift, she heard the door chime go. Probably the maid, for an early turndown. This was the kind of place a person went to so they couldn't be found.

"Yes?" She opened the door , shading her eyes against the late afternoon sun. And gasped.

A tall ginger-haired man stood there, dressed in his usual black. Ray Bans covered his eyes.  
"Ahh, good afternoon, Ms.V. I'm-"

"I know who you are, Lt. Caine," V replied smoothly, despite the pounding of her heart. "Isn't this a little out of your jurisdiction?"

"It's purely a social call, ma'am." Caine indicated the Police speedboat tied up at the resort's main dock. "It's come to my attention that you might be taking a position in the greater Miami area. My colleagues and I, we enjoy a good yarn now and then. Seeing as your works have already visited a Florida of the future, perhaps you could be persuaded to try your hand at something more…current?"

V regarded the man with a critical eye. After a long moment, she spoke.

"I'm still undecided about my future, lieutenant. But I'll take your suggestion under advisement for now. Let's just say I'm open to all possibilities."

"That's good, ma'am. Very good. I'll take my leave now, but please enjoy your stay here." Caine turned on his heel and walked down to the waiting boat. A moment later, it began the journey towards the Keys.

"Thanks, but no thanks," V mumbled to herself. "At least not now." She glanced at her laptop, conscious that she still needed to vote for the Papa bear Awards. Maybe when she got back to New York.

Manhattan seemed parsecs away now and major life choices might have to be made, soon. But for now, the sunset beckoned. V made her way to the suite's deck, first peering into the nearby water as if to ascertain that Eric Delko wasn't about to climb out onto the private dock and try to persuade her as well. Nope, all was quiet.

"Did I hear a doorbell?" a male voice asked lazily.

"Yeah. Nothing important."

"Drink?" Ice tinkled in a pitcher of mai tais being stirred.

"Thanks."

They sat, watching the sunset.

The End! Don't ask, I'll never tell, and neither will he.

___________________

V ran into the crew from CSI New York in the courthouse lobby. "International Shoe" is a standard 1st year law school civil procedure case.

Dade University features in CSI Miami quite a bit but the locations are usually shot in Long Beach or Marina del Rey, literally in my backyard.

The Magnolia Bakery serves up yummy cupcakes to sweet-loving Manhttanites and visitors alike.

Little Palm Island is a mega exclusive resort in the Florida Keys. It's a wonder they don't charge just to look at the website. Someday, I tell myself, someday…


End file.
